


Silence resounding

by Maewn



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Just another day at the Dark Brotherhood, Nazir should really check missions before handing them out, bad day at work, no you didn't read that last one wrong, oh look a dead guy, pickling of a head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6932536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“One merchant should not be that hard to kill!” the Listener hisses, slamming one gloved hand down on the table, red-gold eyes almost glowing with rage. “It took us four hours to corner the bastard, and then he had already hired thirty mercenaries to protect him! Thirty!”</p>
<p> In which the Listener is not a happy man and Nazir questions his superior's sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence resounding

The doors to the archives slam open, and Nazir winces from his seat at one of the long tables near the fire. Maybe he _should_ have taken that mission in High Rock after all…

The Listener is glaring at him, his personal Silencer looking equally grumpy at his side.

Both elves are soaked, fair hair plastered to their skulls.

“Bad day at work?” Nazir attempts to joke, moving his notes to the side, hopefully away from any imminent damage.

“Go to Bruma, he said,” the Listener growls, stalking closer, “It’ll be nice this time of year, he said. It’s an easy contract, no worries whatsoever… And yet, we had to have _two_ assassins on _one_ contract. That is not the definition of easy.”

“It was relatively easy,” Nazir says, daring to correct his superior.

“One merchant should not be _that_ hard to kill!” the Listener hisses, slamming one gloved hand down on the table, red-gold eyes almost glowing with rage. “It took us four hours to corner the bastard, and by _then_ he had already hired thirty mercenaries to protect him! Thirty!”

“Someone tipped the asshole off that the Brotherhood was coming for him,” the Silencer adds, “Not that it did him any good. We killed his mercenaries then him. Only took…what an hour?” she looks to the Listener for confirmation.

He nods. “An hour to deal with the mercenaries and him. Disintegrated the bodies after and tossed the ashes down a wall as we left.”

“Do we have a proof of death? The contract requested some form of proof of the deed, remember?” Nazir asks, brushing water droplets from the polished wood of the table nonchalantly. He’s certain the Listener has proof but it never hurts to ask.

The Listener makes a gesture at his Silencer and the woman pulls something dripping and roughly the size of a human head from a bag at her side. Her golden eyes glitter, her smile wicked and cruel.

“ _That_ ,” the Listener purrs, “is getting sent to the contract requester in a barrel of apples with our suggestion of picking their friends more wisely next time.”

“Why apples?” Nazir asks, eyeing the severed head of the victim, one Cavortius Silvus, which is already beginning to show signs of rot. Brown eyes stare blankly out of sunken eye sockets.

The Silencer walks over to another table, drops the head on the surface and enters the side pantry, apparently looking for a barrel.

The Listener watches her for a moment, before turning back to Nazir. “Why not apples? _I_ was thinking wine, but my Silencer convinced me that would be a terrible waste of wine.”

“And it’s not a terrible waste of apples?” Nazir counters. “Bit much, isn’t it?”

The Listener shrugs, tugging off his gloves and tossing them on the table. Blood trickles down his right hand. The elf ignores the injury for the moment, choosing instead to answer Nazir’s question, “We’ve got plenty more in the storage rooms, not nearly enough wine though. It’s all about making a statement, Nazir. We could just send him a note and the head, saying the evil deed’s been done, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Sometimes I wonder just how sane you are, sir,” Nazir says, “Seeing as you’re dripping blood on my table. Did you not heal yourself after the fight?”

His superior laughs darkly, casting a cleansing spell and rolling up his sleeve, revealing several long knife-cuts that had been neatly stitched closed. “I did. Someone dipped their blades in a potion that prevents magical healing. They’ll heal at their own pace. The blood you see is what collected in my gloves before my Silencer helped me stitch the cuts. I didn’t have time to clean them as we left Bruma in a hurry,” he says, pulling his sleeve back down.

His Silencer returns and drops a small barrel filled with apples on the table. She pauses, returns to the pantry and comes back with a large glass jar and a bottle of vinegar.

“Pickling a head are we?” the Listener questions, casting another cleansing spell at his gloves before sliding them back onto his hands.

“Yes, my Listener, this way the apples won’t be _too_ damaged,” the woman says, pouring the vinegar into the jar, pushing the head in after, adding more vinegar and sealing the jar. The head bobs around briefly before sinking to the bottom.

The Silencer removes at least a dozen apples, carefully arranging the jar in the now empty space, drops a waterproofed note on top and hammers the lid in place. She places the removed apples into a bowl and sets it aside.

“Done,” she announces, turning to the Listener. “Any other orders, sir?”

“Get some rest,” he says, “You are removed from active duty for the rest of the week.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’ll drop _that_ ,” the Listener says, eyeing the barrel, “At the contact’s house before I head home. Right at the end of his bed sounds good…”

“Not staying long?” Nazir asks as the Silencer almost skips from the room.

“No,” the Listener says, “My wedding anniversary is next week and I have a few plans to set in motion.”

“Have fun with that.”

The Listener grins, a bright joyful smile that is at odds with what Nazir knows he is going to do in the next couple of hours. “Oh, I will. Goodnight, Nazir.”

“Goodnight, my Listener,” Nazir says. “Walk always in the Shadow of Sithis.”

“And you as well,” the Listener murmurs, picking up the barrel and vanishing into the shadows once more.

Nazir wonders if the man’s wife has ever questioned his sanity, then figures he’s better off not knowing. He picks up his notes, grabs an apple on the way out of the room and turns in for the night.

He’s got more important things to worry about for the moment than his Listener’s state of mind.


End file.
